Burning Letters
by MusicoftheNight008
Summary: Matthew just wanted to see Arthur again or at least imagine his voice through his letters. Unfortunately he did not account for Alfred's prying eyes, and that Alfred wasn't about to let Matthew's infatuation grow. One sided UKCan. Col!America, Col!Canada


"Mattie! What are you doing?"

Matthew's hand shook slightly, and his quill made a long line on the parchment he was writing on. _Damn_. Regardless, he still shuffled his papers and turned to face Alfred who was surprisingly close. "A-ah, nothing! I'm just writing some notes, documents, and what not."

"Mattie," he scolded. "what did I tell you about that? I'm older, and so I can do it! You don't have to worry about things like that," he plucked the quill out of his hand, smiling down to him as he ran the feather along his cheek. "What were you writing exactly?"

The Canadian swallowed thickly as he stared up at his peer, trying to ignore the tickle as Alfred traced his face. He had hoped his lie was trusted, that Alfred believed it was just work and wouldn't pry, but-

"I'm waiting."

"N-nothing! It's just business for my land, nothing you need to be concerned about."

"Oh but Mattie!" Alfred cooed, setting the quill down and sinking to his knees before him. Even while kneeling, Alfred was still tall, almost on par with Matthew sitting in his chair. As he thought about this, Matthew jumped when he felt warm palms cover his knees and slowly spread them open moving closer so he could fit between them, his hands moving up Matthew's thighs to rest at his hips. "Everything about you concerns me! Don't forget, I'm helping you and your people! A lot of my people have crossed the border to help you _grow,"_ Alfred emphasized this by pulling Matthew closer as he leaned forward to place a kiss on his collarbone. "Don't you realize? You're just as much mine as you are Arthur's-"

Matthew pushed Alfred's shoulders and tried to move his legs, but Alfred just grabbed his arms and took him to the ground, covering him instantly.

"Alfred, this isn't a game!"

"Who says I'm playing?"

"You can't speak of such things, or talk against Arthur! He's good to us, if you would just open your eyes-!"

Matthew flinched when Alfred brought his fist down, slamming the ground right by his head. "No! _You_ need to open _your_ eyes, and lose that false sense of affection you seem to be harbouring! Arthur doesn't want you Mattie; he doesn't want you or love you how I do."

"Y-you're wrong…"

Alfred's expression smoothed out, and he gently ran his hand through Matthew's waves. "It's alright, baby, it's alright. I know you're besotted with that British bastard, and I'm telling you that he sees you only as a colony. I'm only thinking of you here."

"He cares for me, Alfred." Matthew's voice sounded weak, even to him.

"Really? Then where is he? Why isn't he here with us? With you? Why must you write him love letters that always go unanswered?"

The colour drained from Matthew's face as he stared up into gleaming blue orbs. "Wh-what?"

"Oh, you thought I didn't know?" Alfred smirked and leaned back, snatched the pile of papers and opened Matthew's ruined letter. "Do you need a reminder? Here, 'dear Arthur, I hope things are faring well back at home-' "

"Give it back!" Matthew struggled; face red as he tried to rip the letter from Alfred's hands, petrified that he would read too much get to the part that he shouldn't read. "I wasn't even going to send it, stop!"

Alfred had stopped reading it out loud, holding it away from Matthew as his eyes darted from word to word, going down the letter until he grew rigid. When he looked to Matthew, the poor Canadian began to tremble as the bright blue gaze froze him to the core. "I-I didn't mean it."

Pushing off of the teen, Alfred paced over to the pile of papers and picked them up with one hand and almost left the table before he saw a wooden figure on the table. It was a wooden carving that Arthur had whittled for Matthew himself, a small soldier in British military garb with violet eyes. Taking everything in one hand, Alfred extended a hand for Matthew to take which he did quite reluctantly. He guided Matthew over to the fireplace that burned in the corner of the room, the flames dancing and licking at the air.

Extending his arm, Alfred looked to Matthew with cold eyes and without ceremony he said, "burn them."

"…What?"

"You heard me. I said burn them, Mattie."

"I-I can't burn-"

"You said you weren't going to send them, so why do they even matter?"

Clutching his soldier close to his chest, Matthew shook his head twice, curling away from the offensive flames. "I can't burn him, though. You can't possibly expect me to burn this. He means too much to me."

"Don't you love me, Mattie? I thought you cared for me, I thought you liked it here with me. We have fun together here, don't we?"

"Yes-"

"And you're healthy? I take care of you? You're thriving, as are your people?"

"Yes, but-!"

"Arthur isn't here helping you, living with you, Mattie. I am. _I'm_ the one who is here with you, and I have _always_ been here. I have been with you from the beginning and I will be with you until the end. I can make you another soldier, with much more fitting colours…"

As Matthew looked to his wooden figure, Alfred surprised him by pressing up against his back, warm hands running along his arms to cover his hands. "You can do it, baby…Just one little toss, that's all you need. Here, I can help you…"

Alfred guided Matthew's hand to the fire and with a broken sigh, Matthew tossed his heartfelt letters into the flames.

"Good boy…You make me so happy, Mattie," Alfred cooed against his neck, rubbing his nose and cheeks against the soft skin. "Now, just one more thing to go. Come on, you can do it."

Matthew hesitated, holding the figure close and fought as Alfred grabbed his wrist and held it out. "Alfred-"

"What's wrong, Mattie? It's just some wooden soldier, it doesn't mean anything. Arthur made me a dozen of them, they're meaningless. They're nothing special, just pieces of wood with paint…"

_But it's important to me…_Matthew thought, remembering how happy Arthur looked as he handed it to him all those years ago. How proudly he spoke as he told Matthew he'd fight for him someday, and how he'd love that. Matthew could even remember his fresh, clean scent as Arthur held him close, the aroma of grass, tea, and his own musky scent filling his senses. He wanted nothing more than to hold Arthur close right now and tell him how he felt. He hadn't felt so alone until now, looking into the destructive flames that ate away at the letters he poured over.

"Just a little more, you can do it. Let go, Mattie…_let go."_

Should he let go? Was Alfred right? Maybe this was an unfounded, false affection he felt—some juvenile crush that wouldn't go anywhere. Alfred had been there for him for many things, and hell, when _was_ the last time Arthur visited…? He hadn't spoken to him in a while, and Alfred refused to be civil with the man any longer, so maybe…

With a choked sob, Matthew opened his hand and let the figure fall, the fires greedily consuming their latest meal.

"I'm so proud of you, Mattie… You make me so happy. See? Wasn't that easy? Such a good boy…" He ran his hands over Matthew's arms and pressed clumsy, inexperienced kisses to the back of his neck.

Matthew wasn't listening, wasn't feeling Alfred's heat press against him, because all he could feel was a cold draft seeping into him much like how a fog rolls in off the lake. He watched as the soldier died away, becoming unrecognizable until he couldn't look any longer.

The next day, along with a few marks on his neck, Matthew saw a wooden soldier on his table. It was the same size, if a little messy in areas, but the violet eyed solider wasn't in red...they were in blue. Turning the figure over in his hand, Matthew felt tears prick the corners of his eyes and they almost threatened to fall until he noticed something on the bottom. On the base of the figure, painted onto the soles of their feet were the letters A and M. Setting it back down on the table, Matthew noticed a scrap of paper on the ground that must have fallen when he reached for the soldier. With trembling fingers, Matthew picked it up and read the only sentence that was scrawled onto the center of the paper.

_No one will love you like I love you._


End file.
